by Andrea Speed
The cop never finished, as Chai threw back a hard elbow, catching him in his doughy stomach, and all but flung himself away from him, leaving the cop exposed to the lion. Who didn’t wait.
Chai had barely stepped aside before Roan lunged with what seemed to be a gravity-defying leap across the room, tackling the cop and bringing him down in a heap on the floor. The cop still had the knife, but he was already screaming by the time he hit the deck, and Chai had no idea if he could even use it.
Chai couldn’t help but be terrified, but his decision to leave and not help him at all wasn’t due to that. It was a cold-blooded judgment. Yes, this asshole hadn’t voted for him to die, but he was willing to kill him anyway. So fuck him. Let him fight it out with Roan, and may the best inhuman win.
Chai still couldn’t see well, but his eyes had adjusted to the near dark, and he was able to fumble his way to the gaping hole where the front door used to be. He could smell blood, shit, and gunpowder, and wondered if the other two men were in one contiguous piece or torn into little pieces, scattered around the room like gory confetti. He didn’t know because he couldn’t see them, and he decided he wasn’t going to look for them. They meant to kill him; they just got killed (or mauled) first. Call it karma, call it Darwinian, or call it what it really was, which was inevitable. Goddamn it, they should have run. Why didn’t these idiots ever run? Testosterone poisoning indeed.
Chai remembered not to run—not that he could really do that very well with his artificial leg—and didn’t turn his back on the lion, which left him sidling out into a yard that turned out to be massive. They were in some rural outskirt of Seattle that didn’t look fancy, but rather decrepit and sad. This was a place where bathtub meth was probably popular. Also, it was really quiet, and the house was set so far back on the property that Chai couldn’t see the road, not to mention the closest neighbor. It was a great place to kill someone and bury their body. Yeah, he didn’t feel bad about leaving them alone in the house with the lion at all.
That silence had come back. It was funny because, judging from the color of the sky, it was still early in the dusk-turning-to-night phase, but even the crickets he expected to hear chirping out here were silent. And why not? He bet Roan scared them away. Chai wouldn’t have been surprised if all animals skedaddled the moment Roan turned up. Animals generally seemed to know when something wasn’t quite what it should be. Not that Roan was a monster or something; he was just different.
Chai did not expect to make it back to his car, which Roan had parked in the long packed-dirt driveway. He expected the Roan/lion to come out and pull him down, but so far it hadn’t. Maybe it was too busy tearing into the cops inside. Chai didn’t breathe until he was in the car with the door closed. And now that he was safe, his heart kicked into overdrive.
But he wasn’t safe, was he? A thin layer of cool glass was all that stood between him and Roan, and the locked doors of the house had been nothing to him. He touched them, and they fell apart like sand. He was like a monster in a horror movie. If he wanted in, he was coming in, and no one could stop him.
That was unfair to Roan, though. He wasn’t a monster. Roan was a man who had the most horrible illness imaginable. He had something in him that could come out and take him over without his permission and do terrible things. How did he get control back? Chai wondered.
The smart thing to do was leave, right? Just drive away. But he couldn’t actually do that. Chai knew he could come back for him in twenty minutes or an hour, however long it took for Roan to come back to himself… but he didn’t see himself doing that. Roan had saved his life, and he wasn’t going to abandon him now.
But what exactly was he going to do? This was a puzzler, and once his heart rate started to slow, he considered his options. None. Okay, short consideration. Now what?
Chai pulled out his phone and checked the time, and realized this was probably how Roan found him. He set up that thing, right? He was right to do it. Holden was correct—Roan solved the case. Chai simply couldn’t believe it would be that easy, but it was hardly easy, was it? Roan had to threaten a drug dealer and then connected some dots. Leaps of logic were taken, but Holden was right to bet on them. Of course, he would know, wouldn’t he? Once you sidekicked for Roan, surely you learned his strengths and weaknesses.
Time seemed slippery right now. Chai stared out at the darkness surrounding the run-down little farmhouse, wondering who it belonged to, or if it was a foreclosure or something. It looked like it had been disused for some time, although it was difficult to say in the dark with only moonlight for illumination. But as he stared, a shape appeared in the broken doorway. It was a man, and he appeared to be hurting as he leaned against the porch railing and slid down to his knees. The hair looked reddish-black in the pale light, confirming it was Roan.
And it was really him and not the lion, wasn’t it? The posture betrayed pain, and Chai didn’t know if the lion really felt it. Maybe Roan got all the pain and the lion got all the rage. An unequal partnership that never got any better.
Chai put his hand on the door handle and thought about going out to help him, but what if he was wrong? What if it was still the lion? It’d be a stupid way to die, especially after all this.
Oh, fuck it. Time to be brave.
Chai opened the door and slowly stepped out, waiting to see if he was about to be charged by Roan, but he wasn’t. Roan was still growling, though; he could hear it from here. This was a bad idea, wasn’t it? He’d edged out beyond the car when the hellish growling suddenly morphed into a human voice, and it was so startling it made him pause. “…the car door for me.”
Chai had to stop himself from asking what, mainly because Roan’s voice sounded terrible. Scoured, raw, bloody. He decided to try and figure out the sentence for himself, and after a few seconds, decided to open the car door. He first did the passenger side and then opened the back door, unsure which one he meant. “Can I help you?” Chai asked.
Roan didn’t answer as much as he grunted, but it sounded like a negative grunt. And Chai didn’t really expect a yes. Still, he stood by, just in case.
Roan all but threw himself into the back seat, lying on his side without even trying to sit up. Chai didn’t know what to do except close the doors and climb in on the driver’s side. He glanced back at Roan in the rearview mirror, as he was breathing rather loudly and now chewing on something. Although Chai’s mind instantly went to “person,” he figured it was some of the pot brownie Roan had tucked away for emergencies.
“I should get you to a hospital,” Chai said. Roan was still growling a bit, but it was different than before, when it sounded demonic and monstrous. This was quieter, weaker, and Chai was getting a sense of pain from it, although he couldn’t say why or how. He wondered what Holden would do in this situation, and what came to mind was matches and gasoline. He wasn’t going to do that.
“No. If I go there, they’ll never let me out.”
Chai thought about mentioning that was paranoid, but for Roan it probably wasn’t. He was probably lucky to have gotten out to begin with. But Chai’s head still hurt, he could taste blood in his mouth, and he wasn’t 100 percent sure Roan wasn’t injured. A bullet must have found him, right? Or at least nicked him. He must have been hurt, but Chai couldn’t figure out a way to ask. They needed to go somewhere they could get help, and only one place really came to mind. God, he hoped Dee was home.
Chai took his phone out to see where the hell they were and how to get back to Seattle from here. It was then he noticed his hands were shaking, and he decided to let himself have that. He almost laughed when the phrase “It’s been a stressful day” floated through his mind.
Wasn’t it fun when your mind joined in on the sarcasm? Chai figured if he was going to go mad, he’d picked a great night for it.
19—My Staple Diet of Rice, Vitamins, Alcohol + Painkillers
A WEIRD noise woke Dee up, and it took him a second to place it as his phone vibrating across his end table. H
e would have sworn he’d turned it off, but apparently not. He grabbed it, not lifting his head off the pillow, and grumbled, “Yeah?”
“Uh, hi, Dee, sorry to wake you,” Chai said, and right away, Dee knew something was wrong. For one thing, he sounded almost chipper, and while Chai was a pretty mellow guy, he had never sounded chipper in the little while he’d known him. Instant red flag.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Umm, can we drop by your place? We probably need medical attention.”
Dee’s mind instantly went to him and Holden, but no, scratch that. Holden was still in the hospital, right? “Who’s we, exactly?”
“Me and Roan. It’s, um, been a bad night.”
Roan? Shit. Now his mind was all over the place, and he was frighteningly awake. “How badly are you hurt? Is Roan himself? Is anyone dead?” Funny how his mind went right to dead, but the lion didn’t know about human laws, or care. It didn’t have restraint, or any awareness that the human that it shared a body with could be in trouble for what it did. If it were a true lion and not just the virus, which was a weird alley he didn’t feel equipped to go down. Dee didn’t fool himself—he didn’t understand the virus, and he never would, and that went for normal infecteds. Roan was a weird galaxy all his own, a place where physics went bananas and wasn’t susceptible to their laws. He was glad he never really thought about this while they were dating, because he would have felt so bad for Roan he’d never have broken up with him. Of course, Roan would probably have dumped him for pitying him, so it all would have worked out.
“Umm… I honestly don’t know how badly I’m hurt, or if I’m really hurt at all. I seem to be driving okay, and I’m not bleeding. Roan is… I dunno. He seems in and out of consciousness. And he’s growling a bit, but it’s not those hellish demonic growls, like before.”
“Like before? So the lion definitely came out?”
“I’d say so, yeah.”
“And it didn’t attack you?”
Chai scoffed in a way that was a sort of humorless chuckle. “I know. I can’t believe it either. But I got out of there as soon as I could, so maybe it didn’t have the opportunity it needed.”
Did it need much of an opportunity? But Dee decided this was not a problem he could solve. He was honestly grateful that Chai managed to get out without getting hurt. Then it occurred to him. “Got out of where?”
“Oh.” There was another mirthless laugh. “You know, this is gonna sound fake, but I swear it’s not. I was kidnapped by some cops, I think, and taken to what looked like a broken-down farmhouse in… Burien? I’m not sure where it was.”
“What?” Yes, that sounded ridiculous. It also sounded exactly like something that would happen to Holden or the Holden-adjacent. “How… are you… are they dead?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t go back to check.”
“You didn’t—” Dee made himself stop. Why the fuck would Chai risk going back into the house when the lion was there? Dee wouldn’t have gone back in either, not without a tranq gun and a load of backup. “Did you steal a car to get away?”
“No. I let Roan use my car. I’m in my car.”
“Okay, good.” If he stole a cop car or a cop’s unmarked or private car, that was a shitshow waiting to happen. Cops formed circles around their own, even if they were bad. In fact, things had been getting worse in that direction, as far as he could tell. It made him now feel uneasy around cops, even at crime scenes where he was tending to victims. Dee had no idea where or when the “cops against the world” mentality had kicked in, but he wasn’t a fan. “How far away are you?”
“Uh, eight minutes, maybe?”
“Okay, I’ll get everything ready. Text me when you’re here.” He hung up, figuring Chai would forgive him, and got to work. He had his medical kit ready; that was easy. It was getting the rest of the stuff ready for Roan that was hard.
Dee couldn’t give a shit about his couch. It was a Craigslist freebie anyway. Time for a new one. But he was going to need to have some food and drinks standing by.
Even if Roan didn’t partially transform, his body underwent the same shocks as if he did. So his metabolism would be going haywire. Whether he wanted to eat or drink or not, Dee was going to force him to so he didn’t starve to death in three hours. He wasn’t having an ex die in his fucking apartment unless he killed them himself.
Dee’s fridge was full of takeout leftovers, as he was a lazy asshole who loved to watch the Great British Bake Off but wouldn’t cook himself. He was generally far too tired after work and just wanted to shove something in his maw and collapse in front of his Xbox. But in this case that worked out, as he was able to ferret out what Roan would like. The problem was in the drinks category. He had lots of cold coffee drinks and a couple of energy drinks, but these were dehydrating and would exacerbate any dehydration problems Roan might have. The problem was, as a paramedic who always found himself more tired than was allowed, he liked to have caffeine to perk him up.
He searched his cupboards, in case he had something he forgot, or something one of his exes left behind. He hit pay dirt in a weird lemonade mix. Probably Luke’s, as he liked his sugary fruit drinks. Dee hastily read the directions and mixed up a pitcher of it in a wine carafe, because he was an almost middle-aged single man, and he didn’t own a goddamn pitcher. It tasted really sweet but warm, so Dee threw in a shitload of ice cubes before putting it in the fridge. It was probably best cold.
Dee did take a second to reflect on the fact that the detritus of his cupboards was an archeological wonderland of his past relationships, from the ones that lasted barely a week to those that lasted a couple of months. Crumbs of the past scattered behind, the weirdest souvenirs. He would have wondered why guys always liked to bring food by his place, but Dee already knew the answer. They thought his diet was atrocious, being an EMT who never seemed to have time or the inclination to shop, and working his weird hours, things never got any better. A lot of them tried to “help” him, but in the end it hadn’t worked, or hadn’t been enough. He briefly considered an art project called “Nine Relationships Expressed in Abandoned Groceries” but remembered he wasn’t an arty type.
Dee started reheating a mix of Chinese and Thai leftovers in the microwave and was done with the first bowl when his phone thrummed. He thought it was Chai, even though it wasn’t a text. “Yeah?”
“Hi, Dee, sorry to bother you,” Dylan said. “I was hoping you might know where Ro is. He isn’t answering his phone.”
“Oh shit,” Dee exclaimed, unable to stop himself. He really liked Dylan. He was smart, chill, and cute as fuck, and he was as patient as a million saints put together, which was good since he was married to Roan. Dee still was amazed he had lasted this long.
“He found the guys who hurt Kevin and Holden, didn’t he?” Dylan didn’t sound upset. If anything, he sounded kind of weary. He expected this.
“I don’t know. Probably. It seems Chai was kidnapped by some guys, and Roan saved him. They’re on their way to my place now.”
“Good. How badly are they hurt?”
“Chai said they weren’t, but I have some doubts. I’ll know more when they get here.”
“Okay, thanks. I’m on my way over. See you soon.” Dylan hung up, and Dee couldn’t shake the pity he felt for him. Yes, he was a grown man and had made his choice, but did anyone really understand the shitstorm they were getting into with Roan? They thought they did, but they were always wrong. Much like the guys who kept trying to contain or hurt him.
And yeah, it didn’t help Dee’s sense of pity that Dylan was a typical Roan guy—in other words, totally fucking hot. His animal magnetism—pun intended—was catnip to the hunks. More unnecessary proof that life was fucking unfair.
He was almost finished nuking things when his phone hummed again, this time due to a text. Chai was finally here.
Dee left his apartment to venture down to the end of the hall, where the very faint scent of pot and t
akeout pizza never seemed to fade—it was either the hippie lady in 3A or the young guys in 3B, or both—and was there as the elevator doors opened, revealing Chai starting to crumple beneath the dead weight of a semiconscious Roan.
Dee immediately got on the other side of him, putting an arm around Roan’s shoulders. “Aren’t you fresh out of the hospital, old man? What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dee shifted Roan’s weight to him. It really wasn’t that bad, but he was shedding heat like a malfunctioning furnace. Another sign of his body’s violent reaction to a shift.
Roan sort of grunted, a halfhearted reply from the half conscious. Dee gestured with his head, a sharp nod toward his open apartment door, and Chai took that as an invitation he should go ahead, which he did. Chai held the door all the way open for them as Dee helped Roan down the corridor, all but dragging him. His inner paramedic was saying this loss of consciousness was bad, but there wasn’t a single thing about this that was good. Roan, as far as his medical training told him, shouldn’t be alive. So it wasn’t much help at the moment.
Once inside, Dee maneuvered Roan to the couch, where he collapsed, and Chai closed the door. Now Dee got a chance to turn and look at Chai. Physically, he looked okay. He had a black eye, which was only just starting to swell and discolor, but that wasn’t so bad considering all that could have happened to him. But that could be said about almost everyone at every point of the day. Life was weird.
He did a quick visual scan, but Chai didn’t seem to be bleeding from anywhere. His normally burnt-sienna-toned skin looked a little ashen, except where the bruise on his face was taking over. The scars peeking out from his hairline were almost bleached white. “You should really sit down,” Dee advised.
“Okay, yeah,” Chai said. He found the closest armchair and collapsed into it with a huge sigh.
Dee checked on Roan again, putting a hand on his stomach, feeling the heat coming through his Pansy Division T-shirt. And of course he was going to take on murderous thugs wearing a Pansy Division shirt. Roan wanted the irony to escape no one.
